The Corner Café
by ffnaru
Summary: When he first saw her standing on the street corner on that cold November morning, something about her told him that it wouldn't be the last. —AU; LyonxEirika


**06.16.2007: **This chapter is currently undergoing some (somewhat hard) editing yet _again_, because I'm OCD like that.

The preface is still there, though. Edited, but nonetheless there. Sorry, folks.

* * *

Hello there. I suppose if you're reading this, I should probably thank you. Most people would probably skip this and head straight to the story itself. You're taking time to actually _sit _there and read this, so thank you very much for doing so. 

This is pretty straightforward. I wanted to get a few things out there before you guys dare to venture out into the abyss that is known as my writing, heh.

First things first. I would like to wish a very happy (albeit delayed) birthday to the lovely Miss Oro Oro. She's probably changed her username to something else by now, but the point is still made. Happy birthday. This one's for you, dear.

Second, and last on the list: A warning. If you don't know already (and I think I can safely say that most of you do), this here story is an AU. No ifs, ands, buts, or coconuts about it, ladies and gents. It is **not** set in the _Seima no Kouseki_/_Sacred Stones_ timeframe, but rather, in a modern day timeframe. I realize that this might turn off some of you, but I reckon you guys are smart enough to not read this story if it does indeed bother you that much.

That's pretty much it. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. Or not. But I hope you do, and my sincerest apologies if you don't. I try. _

* * *

_

**The Corner Café**

**Chapter One: The Corner Café**

* * *

He first saw her through the café window on a cold November morning. 

She was standing on the street corner, dressed in a long sleeved red shirt, white skirt, and red leggings. Her aqua hair ran down to her waist, and a blue scarf was wrapped loosely around her neck.

He watched her look around, searching the crowds of pedestrians as they crossed the street. It was obvious she was looking for someone.

Said 'someone' came running across the street a few moments later. It was a girl of about her age, with dark blue hair. Judging by the way she greeted the aqua-haired girl with a hug, anyone could tell they were good friends.

The dark haired girl gestured down the street to where the shops were and said something, causing the aqua haired girl to nod in agreement. The two laughed and started to walk down the street, chatting animatedly.

Something inside of him felt sorry to see her go, but he paid no attention to it and went back to work.

It would not be the last time he saw her.

* * *

The Corner Café, as the name suggests, sits on the corner of Main Street and Park Avenue. It is a popular place for the young and old alike. Most stop there for either a quick cup of coffee or a meal before they make a beeline down the street for the shops or head downtown for work. 

The place was built a long time ago, when the town of Serafew was still young. A lot of the older folk like to say that the café is a reminder of the 'good old days,' when people played jump rope in the streets in the hot summer heat or would run down to the nearby gas station and buy soda pop for fifty cents. Sadly, those days are long gone and over.

Today, Serafew is a bustling, high-tech metropolis full of skyscrapers, subways, taxis, and shops. The city is especially well known for its prestigious university. If one were to pass it, they would see its campus teeming with bright, young students eager and ready to learn.

Downtown Serafew is especially busy, especially in the mornings and afternoons; most people are crammed in the subways or rushing down the sidewalks, heading to or leaving from work. The traffic tends to be rather heavy there, whether it is rush hour or not.

The well renowned Park Avenue is lined with shops that sell just about anything anyone desires. The sidewalks tend to be especially busy on the weekends with the locals and tourists spending their money left and right. Sometimes you can spot a local celebrity lounging around in a jewelry shop or clothing store.

In the center of the city is the public park. It is a lovely place, especially in the fall, when the leaves of the trees turn into spectacular shades of red, yellow, and orange. Swans and the occasional dog (and/or person) swim in the fountains, while amused onlookers watch from one of the many park benches.

And so, even though Serafew is no longer the rural, country town it once was, most people still call the now chaotic metropolis home.

* * *

Lyon finished wiping the counter down with the rag and tossed it into a dirty pile near the sink. 

He yawned and stretched. It had been a long day, and it still wasn't over. Casting a glance at the clock, he saw it read eight. Good. He still had time to get back to his apartment, take a shower, eat something, and then catch the subway to the university for his nighttime anatomy and physiology class.

Suppressing another yawn, Lyon hopped the counter and was heading for the door when a voice stopped him.

"You're leaving already, Lyon?"

He turned around and faced the café's cook, Amelia. She was standing behind the counter, hands tucked into the massive pockets of her once-white apron. A chef's hat sat atop her head, drooping slightly. She smiled kindly.

"Class, right?"

Lyon nodded. "Mondays, Wednesdays, and—"

"Fridays, yeah," Amelia finished. "Well, there's no stopping you. But now it's just me, myself, and I—at least, until Ross shows up..."

"It's been a hard day, hasn't it?"

Amelia hopped the counter and sat down on one of the stools, removing her hat and staring at it for a moment before saying, "Yeah. With Ewan and Syrene both calling in sick, we all had to work double back there. _That_ was fun." She rubbed one eye warily.

"You all did fine," Lyon reassured her with a smile. "If it helps, I didn't have a much better time up front. We had a few...unpleasant customers."

Amelia managed a shaky laugh. "I think we all had it hard today. But we all pulled through." She glanced at her watch. "Well, I don't want to keep you from your class. You best be going."

"You're sure you'll be all right?"

"I'll manage. I've had worse days. Besides, Neimi will be arriving shortly to take over my shift and then I can get home and rest up for tomorrow. Go on, go. I'd hate it if you were late on my account."

"All right. I'll be seeing you tomorrow, then."

"Yup. See you. Don't fall asleep in class."

"...Thanks, I guess. Good bye."

Lyon left the café and gave Amelia one last wave through the glass window before heading down the sidewalk for the subway.

* * *

"As you already know, the adult human skeletal system consists of 206 named bones grouped into two principal divisions: the axial skeleton and the appendicular skeleton. For those of you who are curious, today and Monday you will learn about the axial skeletal system; next Wednesday and Friday you will learn about the appendicular skeletal system; and the following Monday you will have a quiz on both. Now, if you would please look up at this projection of the skull here and see how all of the bones relate to each other..." 

_Don't fall asleep in class._

_Amelia's words are easier said than done, especially today_, thought Lyon as the professor began his lecture on the axial skeletal system.

"—you can see, there are two sets of bones in the skull, the cranial bones—which form the cranial cavity and enclose and protect the brain—and the facial bones, which, very obviously, form the—"

Lyon copied the diagram up on the screen and jotted down notes in a bored manner, fighting the urge to yawn. Normally, he would find all of this very interesting, but this wasn't anything new to him—and on top of that, he was tired, which tended to make him become disinterested in anything except a warm, comfortable bed.

"—and the eight cranial bones are the frontal bone, parietal bones (there are two), temporal bones (of which there are two as well), occipital bone—"

...But still, no matter how old or new this was, Lyon couldn't fall asleep for risk of learning something that the book hadn't taught him yet. Not to mention that midterms were around the corner, as well.

That, and he absolutely refused to let himself fall asleep. He'd never done that before, and he wasn't going to start now.

"—other than the auditory ossicles, the mandible is the only movable bone of the skull; most of the skull bones are held together by immovable joints known as sutures—"

Lyon glanced at the clock on the wall. Nine-thirty. An hour and half left to go. He only hoped his nerves would endure the lesson.

---

It was late when he got home—somewhere around eleven or eleven-thirty. Miraculously, he hadn't fallen asleep in class, but had nearly done so on the subway ride home. At the very least, however, he could sleep in as late as he wanted, because he would be working a late shift at the café come tomorrow night with Amelia and Neimi.

Yawning, Lyon climbed the stairs to his apartment, fishing his keys out of his pocket. Opening the door, he walked in, made his way over to his bedroom, and threw himself onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

The sunlight was streaming brightly into Lyon's bedroom window when he woke up the next morning. Yawning, he sat up and glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten. 

"It's already ten?" he mumbled, running a hand through his disheveled lilac hair. "That's late, even for me. I must have been really tired last night…"

Stretching, Lyon got out of his bed and wandered into the bathroom. After he was done there, he headed into the kitchen.

Placing a filter full of ground coffee beans and some water into the coffee maker, he turned it on and waited for the strong, black brew to start dripping into the pot. In the meantime, he fished out a bowl and spoon out of the cupboard, along with a box of cereal and pulled some milk out of the refrigerator.

He was about to start eating when a sudden, dull pain in his chest caused him to stop and look around the kitchen wildly.

"Shoot, where did I leave my—urrgh!" Lyon let out a cry as the dull pain suddenly magnified tenfold, causing his knees to give way and he sank helplessly to the floor, gripping his chest.

_It's in the medicine cabinet! _His mind screamed at him, recognizing the danger.

With great effort, Lyon hoisted himself up and stumbled over to the medicine cabinet, using the kitchen counters for support. Opening the cabinet up, he grabbed the little pillbox that was lying amidst the cough syrup and vitamins. Blindly, he opened it, pulled out two pills, and quickly put them in his mouth, washing them down with a glass of water. Knees giving way again, he fell onto the cold, linoleum floor and there he waited for the pain to subside.

In a few minutes, relief came. The sharp, stabbing pain gave way to a dull ache, which soon faded into nothing at all. Exhaling, Lyon stood up and leaned over the sink, splashing his face with cold water from the faucet.

Turning off the water, he stood there over the sink for a moment to catch his breath and think.

_Did I take my medication yesterday? No, I don't think I did. I was so tired that it must have slipped my mind…_

"Well, that's what I get," Lyon muttered, straightening and wandering over to the table where his breakfast was waiting for him. He sank into the chair and stared down at the wooden surface of the kitchen table.

It had been a long while since he'd had a spell like that one. Oh, yes, there had been spells, but not nearly as excruciating as that one had been.

Sighing, Lyon leaned forward and rested his head on the table, remembering that horrible October morning thirteen years ago when he, along with his father and mother, first found out that he had a heart problem. There had been previous signs, but the first real warning was when he had collapsed in his classroom the day before and had to be rushed to the hospital. After doing extensive tests, the doctors had declared that he had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, or, in other words, a weak heart.

His mother had asked what this meant for him. The doctors had told her that thankfully, their son would not have to stay cooped up in a hospital, but he would need to take a certain amount of medication every day in order to keep his heart stable, or else he would have another spell like the one the previous day. In the meantime, Lyon would be placed on a waiting list for a transplant. His parents had nodded and said they had understood; they would be ready to do anything to help their only child. The doctors nodded and went ahead and did the transactions, drew up prescriptions, and gave them the receipts. Lyon vaguely remembered feeling sad and somewhat at fault, knowing that what his mother and father were doing would cost them a great deal of money. After all, medical science did not come by cheap.

He had been eight then, and living in the coast side town of Bethroen. After his mother died six years later, his father decided to move to uptown Serafew. There, Lyon had enrolled into the local high school and managed to get himself accepted into Serafew's famed university.

Since the university was located deeper into the city, Lyon reluctantly decided that he should move out of the house and get himself a job, so that he wouldn't have to make the long commute and help pay off his medical expenses. His father had protested at first, but then thought better of it and let him.

And that was how Lyon came to be where he was now—currently sitting in a chair in his third floor apartment, head face down on the kitchen table, an uneaten (and now soggy) bowl of cereal sitting directly in front of him, while the steady drip-dripping noise of the coffee maker echoed in the background.

The lilac-haired boy sighed again and rested his chin in his hand, absentmindedly running his finger over the rim of his cereal bowl and zoning out again. Strangely enough, he found his thoughts drifting to the aqua-haired girl that he'd seen through the window two days ago, on Thursday morning. There was something about her, something that faintly told him that he had seen her or known her from somewhere else, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It bothered him, to say in the least.

Or maybe he was just making up stories in his head. After all, she _was_ rather pretty…

But still, there was something about her that evoked a faint feeling of nostalgia in him, and whatever it was, he was going to find out.

* * *

Amelia was chatting with Ewan and Neimi when Lyon walked into the café for his night shift. The three greeted him cheerily. 

"How's it going, Lyon?" Ewan asked. "You look exhausted."

Lyon sighed. "I am. I've been doing nothing but studying and finishing up assignments for class all day."

"Diligent with your studies, as always," Amelia commented, smiling. "It's amazing how you manage, really."

"It's driven me up the wall more than once," Lyon replied. "Duessel wasn't lying when he told me that getting a part time job would sap a lot of valuable time out of my study schedule."

"Mm. Uncle doesn't just blab. If I recall properly, he was reluctant to give you the job at first."

"That he was."

"Still," Neimi said, "you seem to be managing just fine. How's your—um—health?"

Lyon caught the message. "I'm fine, thank you. Had a particularly bad spell this morning, but—"

"_Another_ one?" Ewan cut him off, disbelief etched on his boyish features. "Are you all right?"

"I'm perfectly fine. Just a little weak, but that should be cured with tonight's rest."

"Lyon, you're beginning to worry me," Amelia said, a concerned look crossing her face. "You've had a lot of those spells lately. Maybe you should go see a doctor or something."

"Don't worry. I'll be all right. It's perfectly normal—well, as normal as a problem like mine can get."

"If you say so…" Amelia replied, though her face said otherwise.

Ewan shrugged. "Oh, come now, Amelia. If Lyon says he's fine, he's fine! Besides, there are three of us here in the back. I'm sure one of us can keep an eye on him at some point. He hasn't collapsed on us yet, has he?"

"No…"

"So don't worry! Now, let's get to work. We can't sit here and just lounge around. The money won't earn itself. We need as much as we can get if we want to take that trip of ours, right?"

"Yes…"

"What do you mean, 'yes…'? You're not excited about the trip?"

"Noo, no! It's not that. Don't get me wrong, I really am looking forward to it, but…"

"But what?"

The chiming of the café door's bell prevented any further conversation between Ewan and Amelia—much to Lyon's relief. He didn't like to be talked about much when it came to his health problems, even if it was only briefly. It was something that he preferred to keep under wraps.

"Oh, look; we've got a customer! Let's start working, because it's almost rush hour and then everybody's going to start coming in for dinner!" said Neimi, all too cheerfully. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who was happy for the interruption. Lyon turned to greet the incomer—a young, blonde-haired woman with her hair pulled back into two pigtails high above her head. She wore a long, white coat; a green dress peeked out just underneath the hem. She gave off an air of confidence that seemed to fill the room.

"Well! Isn't this a lovely place!" she said, looking around. "It certainly is nice and warm in here; outside it's just absolutely cold! I'm assuming you are the waiter?" she asked, looking at Lyon.

He cleared his throat. "Uh… Yes, I am." Where had he seen this woman before? Today seemed to be a day where he couldn't seem to figure out anything.

"Oh, good, good! Let's see… I would like a seat by the window. Mmm…" She perused the seats for a moment before pointing at one with her finger. "_That_ one, if you don't mind."

"Certainly." He grabbed a menu before leading the woman down to her table.

She sat down, sighing. "It's been a long day; a long day, indeed. So many people have been coming in and out of the spa—now don't get me wrong, it's terrific business, but sometimes it gets rather chaotic…"

It finally hit him. This was none other than L'Arachel, the person who ran the famed Rausten Spa a few blocks down, on Pontifex Avenue. This was good. Knowing a person's name helped you serve them better, although it rarely ever happened.

"So, Miss L'Arachel…" Lyon began.

L'Arachel looked up at him, surprised. "How do you—?"

"Just putting two and two together."

"Am I really that well known?"

"It would appear so," Lyon said, smiling.

"Oh!" L'Arachel laughed. "Why, naturally! I suppose that being the head of a famed spa does make one known around this small place."

Although Lyon didn't consider Serafew to be 'small,' he was wise enough not to say anything. Instead he asked, "Would you like anything to start off?"

"A Coke. Please."

"All right. I'll be right back."

L'Arachel watched him leave, intrigued. Lyon seemed to be an interesting person. He looked no older than she did; yet here he was, working in this tiny little place. Normally, people like him would be out partying. It was strange. Strange, yet interesting.

Oddly enough, Lyon reminded her of a friend of hers. Her name was Eirika, a kindhearted girl who, as L'Arachel had discovered just recently, had an uncanny knack for art. Looking out the window and down the street, she could see the nearby park in its entire splendor. It was nice. Maybe she would send Eirika down here; perhaps she could find something to draw inspiration from. After all, she _had_ said that she couldn't seem to find any lately. And, of course, as a friend, L'Arachel would do anything to help her. It was only natural, after all. A friend in need is a friend indeed—wasn't that how the saying went?

_Yes_, she thought, as Lyon came back and set her drink down in front of her, _I think I will._

_And,_ she added to herself as she told Lyon her order, _perhaps she'll find a little something...more. _

* * *

Sundays were always slow in the café. Mondays weren't much better, but Sundays were the worst. Usually, the only customers that came in were people with hangovers from the previous night looking for a good, strong cup of coffee before they took the day's work head on. 

Lyon sat behind the counter, gazing out of the window again, having nothing to better to do. The jukebox in the corner changed records again and now played some old 50's tune that talked about how 'big girls don't cry' and whatnot.

Amelia and Ewan had the day off today, and Neimi worked a different shift today; so it was just him and Syrene, and she was busy in the back, taking inventory of the cooking items. Lyon had volunteered to help her but she had declined, saying that she would manage. It wasn't like it was a hard job to do, anyway.

He watched the people go by the café, some stopping at the window and looking inside for a moment before moving on. Occasionally he'd catch the sight of a red shirt and, once again, that faint sense of nostalgia filled him along with the image of the aqua haired girl on the corner. He still hadn't figured out _why_ that kept happening, and by now, he was more than a little cross. That girl, whoever she was, was starting to haunt him—and he was afraid that it would get to the point where it bordered on obsessive, something that he did not want to happen. It was a strange habit of his—if he didn't know something and couldn't figure it out right off the bat, he would spend hours, days, weeks, even _months _figuring it out. Thankfully, it hadn't gotten to the latter part. Yet.

A slight tightening feeling in Lyon's chest caused him to stand up and pause for a minute, closing his eyes and taking a few, slow breaths. The feeling subsided after a moment, but now he was left with the unpleasant awareness of his own heartbeat—a sensation that he found to be somewhat unnerving, as well.

The door to the café opened and two people walked in. He didn't see who they were, as he was still trying to calm himself down.

"My, L'Arachel was right…" Lyon heard one of the customers—a female—say. "It is nice."

"It's no wonder this place is so popular," the other (another female) said. "Oh, look, this place has a jukebox! I thought those weren't around anymore."

"I suppose some of the townspeople weren't lying when they said this place is reminiscent of the older days," replied the first girl.

"Does it give you any inspiration?" asked the second.

"Not quite. However, if I make this place a regular stop…"

"…You might just get some."

"Precisely. I should bring my brother here."

"Yes! And I will bring mine. Then perhaps we might be able to have an actual outing!"

"Mm, perhaps. That would be nice."

"It would, wouldn't it? Well, anyway, I want to sit down. I'm hungry. Hey!"

Lyon looked up from the countertop to answer the second girl who had called his name, but the words died in his throat.

Because standing there was the aqua haired girl with her dark blue haired friend.

"I—it's…" Lyon stammered.

The dark blue haired girl raised an eyebrow. "Is something wrong? Are you all right? You're not sick, are you?"

"Y-you!" Lyon burst out before he could stop himself.

The aqua haired girl looked at him strangely and said, "I'm sorry? Do I…know you from somewhere?"

"I…uh…"

_That was smart. _Really _smart move there, Lyon. Now what will she think?_

"Eirika, I do believe that the cat's got his tongue," the blue haired girl said, grinning as she watched Lyon fumble around for words.

"Tana!" The aqua haired girl, Eirika, frowned. "That's not very kind of you."

"Sorry, Eirika," Tana apologized. "I couldn't help it this time." She laughed.

"Hmph." Eirika shook her head and looked at Lyon. "I'm sorry," she said. "My friend can be rather, um…" She searched for a word. Unable to think of one, she said, "Well, I'm sorry."

"Er… That's perfectly fine," Lyon replied, finding his voice again. He even managed a shaky smile.

"Hn…" Tana said, looking at him suspiciously. "Why did you blurt that out back there? Do you know us or something?"

"Oh, uh…" Lyon thought quickly. "I confused you with someone else that I knew. I'm sorry about that."

"Huh." Tana didn't sound convinced.

"Oh, Tana, I'm sure it's all a case of mistaken identity," Eirika said, smiling. "Everyone does it once in a while, don't they, um—" She looked at Lyon expectantly.

"Lyon," he replied. "My name is Lyon."

"Right. Everyone does that once in a while, don't they, Lyon?" Eirika asked.

He nodded, even though he knew that it wasn't true. Only an idiot would do something stupid like that, but he decided not to voice his opinion.

Tana shrugged. "All right, Eirika, if you say so. I was just a little, er…concerned. You know how it is, being a female and all."

Eirika let out a small laugh. "I know. You're just being wary—and I am thankful for that, Tana."

"Eirika, you're too kind. So—Lyon, was it?—would you mind giving us a table? L'Arachel said the food here was good, and I want to put that theory to the test."

"Honestly, must you put anything food related to the test?"

"Why, naturally. I am a food and wine connoisseur. It's my job."

"Your _job?_ Oh, please! Don't make me laugh! Aha ha ha!"

"What?" Tana shrugged her shoulders, a smile on her face.

"You're so—hee hee!—funny, Tana!"

"…Eirika, I'm afraid that if you don't stop laughing soon, you're going to die from lack of oxygen. That would not be good."

"I-I—"

"Breathe. Deep breaths… That's it."

Eirika stopped laughing and exhaled. "Whew. Sorry. That was…quite unlike me, I have to say." She let out a soft chuckle.

Lyon had watched this ordeal, silent the entire time. The way she smiled; her manner… Where had he seen it before? She seemed familiar and a stranger at the same time.

_Like a distant memory. _

"Lyon? Do we have customers?" Syrene's calm voice cut his musings short.

"Uh…yes! Yes, we do," Lyon replied hastily. "You would probably want to get ready. I'll be seating these two right away."

"Very well."

"Say," Tana began, looking at Syrene. "You…"

"I beg your pardon?" Syrene asked, looking perplexed.

Tana's eyes widened. "S-Syrene! It's you! I can't believe that it's you!" she exclaimed, smiling.

A look of recognition dawned on Syrene's face. "Tana…"

"Oh, wow! How's this for a surprise!"

Syrene smiled. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Er… I don't mean to interrupt," Eirika interjected, "but, um, how do you two know each other?"

"Oops, sorry." Tana giggled. "Eirika, I'd like you to meet Syrene. She was my mentor in elementary school up to my junior year in high school."

"Mentor?" Eirika asked. "In what?"

"Singing," Syrene replied. "She had the most gorgeous voice."

Tana blushed. "Ah, Syrene… I wasn't that great, really…"

"Liar," Eirika laughed. "You're part of the city choir. She's one of the leads, as a matter of fact."

"Really?" Syrene looked intrigued. "I never would have guessed…"

"Stop it, you guys! You're making me blush."

Eirika laughed and said, "But Miss Syrene is right; you really do have a pretty voice."

"Please, just Syrene. Miss makes me feel, well, old." Syrene smiled.

"You'll have to forgive her," Tana said. "She's the type that likes to attach titles to names."

Eirika flushed. "Tana!"

"I'm not saying it's wrong or anything—because it's not—but it's true, isn't it?"

"I… So?"

"Um," said Lyon, feeling somewhat left out of the conversation, "I don't mean to be rude, but would you all like to sit down? I'm sure you all have times to catch up on."

"Ah!" Syrene shook her head. "Sorry. I really should be getting back to work…"

Lyon held up a hand. "Don't worry about it, Syrene. Go ahead and sit down. It's not like there's much to do here, anyway. No one comes in on Sunday."

"Are you sure?"

"It's fine."

Eirika smiled graciously. "Thank you very much. You're very kind."

"I-it…was nothing," Lyon replied.

"Well, then," Syrene began, gesturing to a table. "Let's get acquainted, shall we?"

Tana laughed. "Yes, let's! Come on, Eirika."

"All right, then." Eirika let Tana lead her over to the table that Syrene was walking towards.

_Maybe_, Lyon mused as he watched the three sit down, _this Sunday won't be so boring after all._

He smiled and headed over to their table to serve them.

* * *

And that, as they say, is that. Not very long, I'll admit, but it's finally out there. Woo. Writing an AU has its ups and downs, yes it does. (I think a few people—hell, _everyone—_was a bit OOC, methinks. Hm. I'll have to fix that.) 

…And to those of you who may have caught it: That song that was playing on the jukebox? Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons' "Big Girls Don't Cry." Holler. X3

Concrit is my lifeblood. I'd be much obliged if you were kind enough to give me some.

'Til next time. Naru, out. 


End file.
